Thursday, March 06, 2008

This was my bike, during what I now know is the last race it will ever see. Because this is what my bike looks like now:

It doesn't look that bad. But it can't be fixed and it can't be replaced, and since it's part of the frame, it means the bike will never ride again.

This morning I went out for my first ride in a week (rain was only a sprinkle). Simone and I had only gone 3K, when a car didn't see me on the highway as it was coming off a side street. It ran through a yield sign, hit me from my left side and sent me over into the other lane. Other than some pretty gruesome bruises, I escaped without injury. Nothing broken. But my bike was not as lucky.

I brought my bike from the US. I arrived halfway around the world eight months ago with 3 suitcases and a bike. It is one of the few items from home that I made the effort to bring. And although I may not have always been the best caretaker of my bike, I loved it fiercely. I was heartbroken to learn that it had not survived the crash and that it will not be competing with me in my first olympic distance triathlon.

Even though I was not at fault in the accident. I still feel responsible. I saw the car, I knew it still had some speed, I just thought it had seen me. I thought it would stop. And I feel guilty, on behalf of my bike, for not riding more defensively.